THURSDAY, JULY 16, 2026 · This week's fiction · Submit a story →

Fiction

Gosling Math

Helen had stolen a chicken. She ran now through an open field, bird in hand. At 80 meters, all things considered, (gravity, wind, migrational patterns of barnacle geese) the bullet would have a 2.3765% chance of hitting her. From a distance of 1 meter it might've been possible to see Helen was thinking of Tadhg—a slight dilation of pupil, for example, the way a large, spring-canopied oak might cast a field of cornflowers in shadow. Marcus was a farmer. He'd been in love before. At 1 meter, he might have seen himself in her. At 80, Marcus fired.

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